Forever
by Princess Gillybean
Summary: NextGen. RW/SM. A slightly different take on Rose and Scorpius, their relationship and life together.
1. Chapter 1

**Dedication:** To my friends at the Sober Universe for corrupting/inspiring me to write a something different.

**A/N: **I first wrote this for the smrw_ficafest on lj but after some deliberation, and helpful advice from my awesome friend who happens to be a mod, I decided to write something else however this story is possibly one of the favourite things I've ever written and I'm rather in awe of it, so up it goes. Millions of thanks to respitechristopher for a fantastic beta job and helping me out so much.

* * *

**I:**

Scorpius' mother always told him he could choose what sort of person he wanted to be. That his father's history, his father's expectations, did not define him. She was gone now but her words had always stayed with him.

"Your family has done some terrible things, but you have all sorts of potential in you, you can choose which path to follow; which traits to strengthen and which to try and change."

He'd done just that; dredged up every last scrap of ambition his Slytherin heritage had given him, to cultivate his cool appraising look that showed no sign of his heart existing but hinted at his willingness to do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted.

And Scorpius Malfoy had wanted Rose Weasley. There had been no rhyme or reason to the tug of longing that had appeared as suddenly as the new depth to his voice and his unexpected height. They'd been fifteen and seemed complete opposites. Since day one of their first year; she had the entire school wrapped tightly around her finger. Moving up from friendly First Year to perfect Prefect (and would go on to be Head Girl); she was top of her class in every subject. She knew everyone and everything. She was a Ravenclaw to his Slytherin. She was friendly and open while he was withdrawn and aloof but he'd wanted her never the less and Scorpius always got what he wanted.

He'd never had time to put his forming plan into action however because two days later Rose had dragged him out of the Great Hall at dinner and proceeded to inform him that she wanted him and he'd better bloody well get used to it because Rose Weasley always got what she wanted. It was the first of many similarities he would notice between them.

She'd surprised him, but after a moment he'd realized he had no reason to be so. She was a perfect example that you aren't always what your parents make you. He'd always felt special; she'd chosen him to show her other side, her true self. To let him in past the act, to trust and to love. It was an act he admired, and found incredibly sexy. She was ruthless, cunning and exceptionally bright, she fought tooth and nail to get what she wanted, and for some lucky reason she'd wanted him as much as he needed her.

He'd do anything for her, had done many things for her. Given up things, taken away things. He knew without a doubt he was the person he was today because of her. Sometimes, he thinks he chose to be that way just so he'd be her perfect fit. That he'd known unconsciously all those years ago that, one day, Rose Weasley would be there, exactly the way she was, and he needed to be shaped to her. After that day outside the Great Hall they became two halves of a whole. They didn't spend every moment together, not in the literal sense, he still had his projects and she had her prefect duties and her social responsibilities. But he always knew exactly where to find her, and she him. There was always time.

* * *

He catches her eye from the alcove he's standing in and holds up two fingers. She nods quickly and turns to her patrol partner, who is walking determinedly ahead, oblivious to Scorpius' presence. He loves watching her work. Loves knowing she lets him see her put the charming smile in place because she knows what it does to him, before she tugs on the Gryffindor's arm.

"Thomas, I think I heard something." She looks over at a broom closet two doors down. A pathetic smile breaks across his face, as he heads toward it. Rose rolls her eyes as she glances back at Scorpius; Thomas loves reprimanding those who break curfew. Moments later two rather startled looking third years, one in green, one in blue are dragged into the corridor. Rose swiftly steps forward before the lecture can begin.

"How about you escort young Marcus back to his dorm, I'll take Candance."

"Thanks Rose," Candance says, sighing with relief as Thomas drags the hapless boy away. She then frowns slightly. "Scorpius was sure nobody would be patrolling this corridor."

Scorpius watches with pride as his Rose smoothes things down, gives explanations without seeming to, spinning such convincing lies that Scorpius himself almost believes her, despite knowing the truth. It wouldn't be productive to have someone with Candance Fancott's connections annoyed with him. She appears satisfied, promises Rose to return to her common room immediately and heads off.

Rose turns and smiles his favourite kind of smile, slow, dangerous, one she saves only for him.

"Enjoy that?" she asks sliding into his arms, and he murmurs confirmation into her hair, he always enjoys her. His lips find her neck, taking advantage of her momentary distraction.

"Okay, enough. We have work to do," she reminds him, and he reluctantly agrees. He keeps as much of her in his arms as he can manage while they walk. It's the way it is with them.

"Do you suppose the idiot will ever figure out why this is such a regular occurrence?" It is a question he has asked often before, on other nights such as these, he only asks because he loves the conversation that follows.

"He gets what he wants, sees what he wants and assumes he is clever enough to be the one who gets what he wants."

"He's a fool."

"He's one of the masses." Rose shrugs, "It's natural for them. They are all the same, granted some are slightly better than others. Some a thousand times worse. But they're all part of the crowd. They have no idea about anything. That's why they are so easy to manipulate." She looks up to meet the hungry gaze she knows is there. "They aren't like us."

They reach the Room of Requirement. "They all take everything on face value. Never look as deep as they need too."

"It's why we're here, and they aren't." he says as Rose mutters the ancient words they chose to guard the door, while straightening her shirt. With a smirk he tugs it crooked again and she rolls her eyes as they step inside. The room has everything they need for their planning, for their projects, for a short escape. It had taken them only a few months to work out how to get the room running again, after realizing neither had accepted the story of its complete ruin though _firefiend_. The room couldn't change itself to fit their need –It had been an empty, broken space but the magic foundation had been strong and they had moulded it, formed it and protected it with the most powerful spells and magic they could find. Now it was a haven, their special place.

They walked hand in hand without a backward glance. Unlike the other seventh years whose time at Hogwarts came to an end, there were no tears, or at least no real ones. It had been a place they had lived but all sentimental attachment was tied up in each other. Its use had ended and so they moved on. Together.

* * *

They'd been together for almost six years, surprising Hogwarts, then the world. They were a unit. One nobody but them understood. He didn't mind her being the front person of their pair. The one everyone saw and admired. He didn't mind people wondering exactly what Scorpius Malfoy had done to deserve such a paragon. He knew as well as she did, she wouldn't have gotten as far as she had without him, or at least, not as quickly. He knew they fed each other, inspired, and drove each other. Everything he did was for her first and him second. He also knew there were distinct advantages to being in the background. He was free to carry out the more…_radical_ side of their plans while Rose wooed the world. She portrayed her perfect image without a hitch and though some had been surprised she accepted her apprenticeship at Ollivander's instead of the numerous Ministry offers, she'd been ecstatic to be so close to so much knowledge of power.

Their families had been surprised when they'd moved in together; they'd seemed to be holding on to the hope that it was all just some temporary fling, some teenage experiment. But it hadn't been, Scorpius never even thought of thinking about another girl, it never bothered him Rose was the only person he'd ever been with. He knew her better than he knew himself, knew her every ambition and her deepest desires, he knew them and they mirrored his own.

He remembered the day she left Ollivander's, accepting one of the continued offers from the Department of Mysteries. She's moved from job to job, moving when she'd learnt what she'd intended, moving on up she called it. And still no one suspected she wasn't the golden girl the world saw. Only he saw the delicious darkness in her eyes when they talked of long hidden magic he'd discovered on his various trips and expeditions, or the secrets she'd stolen from the Ministry late at night. Only he understood the longing in her gaze when he'd finally brought her to his family home and taken her to the library. They thought they saw a love of books, of knowledge but he knew it was a longing, of knowledge yes but also of power. He knew she saw, like he did now, the potential of the ancient tomes, of the dark secrets they could hold.

* * *

He shows them to her, the secrets his ancestors kept hidden, most unaware of the potential amongst their collection. He watches her pour over them, darting from one to the other, staying just long enough to file away an impression for future references. Bundles of letters, thick scrolls or leather bound books, they range from before the first Malfoy was even recorded to material his own grandfather gathered. He himself reads as well, but sporadically, this is not all new to him and watching her gives him great enjoyment. The way she flips her hair over her shoulder when too much has fallen into her vision is familiar, as is every change in her eyes. He watches them darken in excitement or narrow in annoyance. Every now and then those eyes rise to meet his and there is such a charge of energy between them that they both have to stop for a moment. When he feels she has seen enough he drags her into his lap and while hands are busy exploring, they talk of power.

He wakes, still sitting in the armchair, Rose wrapped around him, fast asleep. He wonders what his parent thought, if they had come in and seen. A cursory glance tells him they would have seen nothing but scene any parent might see when their son's girlfriend stayed over, and mentally praises Rose's foresight in banishing last nights reading material back to their original places. She is stirring; those large brown eyes blink up at him, clouded by sleep. He loves watching her wake, see the sleep vanish as acute awareness comes into her eyes, to see her mentally process the entire situation and decide to let him in. It takes all of a second and he knows its instinct. The corners of her mouth turn up in an excruciatingly slow smile as she looks at him and he never wants to wake up without her again.

While his parents are absent, Scorpius lets Rose back in the library. She picks a large scroll dating back to 1240 and curls up in his armchair. He sits at her feet with one of his grandfather's books. Silence hangs in the room, while both are fully absorbed in their reading. It is a warm comfortable silence, broken intermittently by observations

"Riddle wasn't exactly original," Rose says as she finishes, stretching her arms above her head. One of her legs is hooked over his shoulder, the other drawn up to her chin. His hand runs absently up and down her calf, and he doesn't hear her at first. She repeats herself, something she hates to do for anyone but him.

"No. He was weak," he can practically hear Rose smirk as he says it and she informs him with a hint of scorn that he sounds like her family. "He didn't understand the power of love," she mimics.

"Got something against love?" he asks, sliding his hand a little higher. She drops the scroll near his feet and slips down into his lap but ignores his question. An answer isn't necessary.

"He didn't understand that power comes from everything. From everywhere, I guess Uncle Harry is kind of right when he says Riddle underestimated things he didn't understand. Those things were all sources of power."

"Also he had a very small-minded approach toward what he did with the power he did have."

"Oh I know." Rose shudders, "it positively infuriates me."

Scorpius thinks she's sexy when infuriated; he tells her and earns a smouldering look that has his skin jumping. "He did not deserve to be preserved in history like he has been."

"They rarely do."

She rolls her eye, "Merlin for example."

The fact she thinks she's above even the Great Merlin himself tugs at his heart and he pulls her even closer, their foreheads touching. Her fierce gaze holds his adoring one.

"We'll do better," she says and he believes her. Together, how could they not?

* * *

Now he was back in that same room, in the home where he started out putting the last of a plan into action. He heard the owl knock at the window, vaguely surprised at the unfamiliar bird and let it in; careful to cover the more delicate of the books he was working with. He untied the scrap of paper at the birds led and it few away, out the window without a seconds pause. His heart stopped and for the first time since that first, heated kiss with Rose six years ago he felt fear.

On the parchment a single sentence was scrawled.

_She is using Amortentia.

* * *

_

**Part 2 will be along shortly. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**II:**

Rose's mother always insisted she was more than just the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, that she was her own person, that she could chose her own path, no matter what sort of stupid expectations Ron pretended to have. Rose believed her.

She was Rose Weasley, she had her mother's intelligence, her father's stubbornness and an overriding ambition all of her own. The Sorting Hat had tried to put her in Slytherin but that didn't fit Rose's plan, and the Hat couldn't deny her Ravenclaw when she insisted.

Rose was good at insisting, using whatever tools necessary to gain her objective and somehow without giving the impression of manipulation. Rose always got what she wanted, exactly the way she wanted, and then one day she wanted Scorpius Malfoy. It had happened all of a sudden as she was walking out of Potions and he was walking in. It was the first time his cool grey eyes met her warm brown ones. Her heart had pounded, as if yearning to reach for his.

He wasn't part of her plan, too intelligent to be content to stand on the sidelines of her success, and he wasn't someone content to live her life and not his own but the yearning in her quickly readjusted that. Two days later, after some deliberation, she'd confronted him at dinner and discovered her other half, it didn't matter that he had his own plans, his own way of succeeding. They fit so perfectly with hers, she sometimes wondered if they were even separate people.

She'd been made for him she was sure. Fate had seen him as a small perfect baby and created Rose, just for him. His devotion to her was a constant thrill, one she treasured close to her heart. Once they were together Rose believed in soul mates. She believed in finding the exact right person at the exact right time. He was not what she'd thought he was before the moment of want. He was so much better, they complimented each other, he was her strength, the one she knew she could trust completely, and in return he trusted her. He told her of his own ideas, ones she herself had thought, and ones completely new and exciting. He was mysterious and dangerous, he let her in, let her see behind the cold mask. He held her close as though he wanted nothing more than her touch for eternity. He would have that and so much more. They would be together forever, and nothing would be able to stop them.

They spent their years at Hogwarts entwined in each other and that didn't change after leaving, even when he was away in far off places gathering information or experimenting with his special projects. She could feel him, while she was working on her front and he on his; he had connections in the dark underside of the magical community she could only lust after, yet he was never sucked into it.

They were above it. Above it all. Above her beloved, heroic family that shone through the Wizarding World.

* * *

He is in the middle of a conversation with the CEO of Blakehurst Industries when she walks in. He feels her presence before he sees her, standing tall, a diamond among coal, a pearl among the swine. He watches Rose make her way through the crowd, bee lining for those they'd deemed 'important', a captivating on her face as she deflected unwanted conversation without batting an eyelid. Inwardly he smirked, those brushed aside seemed far from resentful. Rose always left the exact impression she wished to. He forces himself not to be distracted by the way her long, black evening gown emphasizes the perfection of her curves. She wouldn't be pleased if he allowed himself to lose an offer like the one he is receiving. Vivian Blakehurst-Harrinton is enthralled by him; he has spent the last twenty minutes making sure of it. A job Blakehurst Industries would provide him with ample travel opportunities and connections that would makes working for such a tedious lady worthwhile.

"…Once your year at school is finished, you must come and see me. We would be thrilled to have you on board." She was trilling. He smiles disarmingly, "you'll be sure to hear from me, it sounds like a fascinating opportunity."

"There's one thing…"she falters slightly, then leans forward, "It is a company with, well significant investment in the muggle world." He follows the involuntary flutter of her gaze and sees his father, making polite small talk with two of his mother's colleagues. Internally he sighs, wearied by such predictable behaviour. Externally he meets her gaze squarely, informs her it will not be in the least bit a problem for him and heads in the direction of Rose, leaving her to inform whoever was handy how admirable it was, that the young Malfoy has such determination to not stray down the path his father had.

As he approaches Rose he marvels, he has seen a few people he recognizes from Hogwarts, Rose does not look like a schoolgirl. She is confidant, engaging and has wrapped every person tightly round her little finger. He slides a possessive arm around her waist when he reaches her and she turns her head to smile at him, it's a coy little smile, one that conveys meaning on several different levels. Some secret meant just for him, some for those watching, to create the right impressions. She excuses herself from the group she was charming and they head in the vague direction of the drinks. "Right timing?"

"I was done. I'll be getting several one-in-a-life time offers before school is over."

"Already got one." He smirks at her as she nudges him with her elbow, and rolls her eyes but she is pleased, he can tell. Her eyes say tell him everything as she asks, "Blakehurst?"

He nods, "How'd it go at Diagon yesterday?"

"Perfectly." It's her turn to smirk, and he pulls her closer, he is about to whisper in her ear when something catches his eye. "Parents staring," he informs her quietly.

"Well they knew you'd be here and still insisted I come, "

"You argued?"

"Of course not. That would've set us back a few months at least."

He acknowledges the truth of this, "should we keep circulating?"

"Together this time." He raises an eyebrow.

"I can't stand not seeing you for so long." He draws her hand through his arm, and they head over to his parents. He understands. Putting up with his family at Christmas, without her, is agonizing. But it was necessary. They both knew it, that their seventh year could not be like their fifth or sixth, with every holiday curled up in the room. The various expectations of their parents now they were seventeen must be met. The prospects that open for them were far too important to be indulgent but it did not make separation easier. As much as Hogwarts itself bores him, he cannot wait to be back there with her. With his Rose.

He doesn't want to leave without her but his parents collect him, despite having become of age he must go along with them for now. She assures him that she too will leave soon, will owl him straight away. As he Apparates home, he is almost overwhelmed by longing, by the looming week before he will see her again. He smiles for his parents, tells them of his accomplishment, in surprised, honoured tones and they are proud, though obviously hurt he did not confide his ambition in them. As he lies in bed, drifting in and out of thought, he imagines just how they'd react if they knew his true ambitions. He finally falls into a deep sleep, the smirk still etched on his face.

* * *

People were surprised that she would attach herself to someone with a family history like Scorpius Malfoy, but many saw it as a touching romance, Romeo and Juliet style. Scorpius was portrayed as misunderstood and burdened by his family name. It was an image they cultivated. One that amused them in private, when they were curled up, planning, or just talking, just loving. She loved the fact he needed her as much as she needed him, that neither of them would be anywhere near where they were if it wasn't for the other. Together their ideas took on a new sheen, shiny and enthralling. All the more exciting because they were in it together. Their plans bloomed into something that filled Rose with tingling anticipation.

They suffer through their family obligations together. Her family did their duty and accepted Scorpius after some grumbling about his father. His welcomed her with open arms; well aware the world was watching. Eventually it became natural, if somewhat tedious, to spend Sunday evening at either the Weasleys or the Malfoys, enjoying the secret knowledge of the thoughts behind each other's smiles. Her father had asked her, half desperately, just before she moved out if she didn't want to maybe try out a few other blokes before settling on a Malfoy. The very thought had her stomach churning and her lungs burning. The look on her face burnt down the last of her father's resistance to her relationship with Scorpius.

She moves up and learns and shares with him, as he does with her. He shares his travel stories as he goes from Egypt, to Syria to Poland to Bulgaria to Mongolia and Peru, with thousands of stops along the way. He makes sure to never stay away for more that two weeks but those two weeks are hell just knowing how far away his. Even though she can feel him, even though he writes and even though what he brings back is invaluable she hates his absence. Being back in his arms after two weeks apart is the best feeling in the world. He shows her things that she only ever dreamed of, things whose existence she could only hope of, yet she'd give it up if he asked her to. She's glad he is as thrilled by it as she is. That he understands her thirst for power, for knowledge, for secrets because it is his thirst too.

They share a flat in the decent part of London. It's far from perfect; they'd both prefer more space, less neighbours. Particularly the nosy, shrill women two doors down who seems to think of them as dear friends. But it's what's needed for this stage, so they endure. It's harder for Rose, she's always there, while Scorpius is off on his work trips. She hates his work because it takes him away from her, but she likes the results and results matter. So he keeps travelling, returning to fascinate her with his stories and acquisitions.

* * *

This trip is the longest they've been apart and sometimes she feels like each day without him is cutting into her, restricting her breathing. She can hardly sleep most nights knowing he is on the other side of the world and won't be coming to bed. As she walks up the stairwell all this is tucked down in her heart, all her thinking and feelings must be put aside for the moment. It's been a productive day, though she is nearing the point where she would have all she need from old Ollivander. Moving up would require a little extra effort on her part, a little less confidant Rose, a little more flutter, remind them she was still only eighteen, play the young women who's still finding herself card. Ollivander won't buy it. She knows that, but it doesn't matter, she has fascinated him since she bought her wand eight years ago. It's enough for him to want to see what she'd achieve. All thoughts fly from her mind as she opens the door and finds Scorpius standing in their living room. Waiting for her. The door slams behind her and she's gathered up, held tightly, pressed against it. She revels in the feel of him, his lips brush hers gently before his hands come up to frame her face and they stare at each other. She reads longing, and love in his eyes and know they mirror hers.

"I have a present for you." He informs her eventually, picking her up and carrying her to the sofa, she loves how he refuses to relinquish his hold on her any more than he has too. Instead of the tacky shell jewellery or souvenirs sarongs that she knows his colleagues would have bought during the stay in New Caledonia, she is presented with a small wooden carving, she can feel it whisper of power and she knows she will find it fascinating just as soon as she's finished showing Scorpius how much she loves him.

"Thought you'd like it," he smirks; she curls up against him, examining it carefully. "A Kanak shaman made it for me. Oppressed natives are often very powerful in their way."

She sets it carefully on the small coffee table and leans against him, an invitation for the story she's seen in his eyes since he gave her the present.

"The Kanak people had very interesting ideas on death magicks, at least before the French came along and colonized. Some still practice it, but I had to go quite deep into the jungle to find them."

"You always do." She is proud that such a man is hers. He is the promise of all that can be, all that will be.

"I think I truly did this time." There is excitement in his voice and he draws something out of the bag by his feet. Her eyes widen at the large volume he has extracted. If power whispered out of the carving it positively exploded from this book. Carefully she sets it on her lap and opens the worn leather binding. It is a book of native '_magiques ancienne',_ magic that as dark as it is ancient. It's written in an unknown language but one influenced enough by French for her to work out the ideas it's exploring. She cannot even begin to name the feelings she experiences welling inside her as she read. Mounting anticipation adds an excited fluttering in her stomach to the usually head thudding yearning she feels around him. She feels shivers of possibilities crawling over her skin. If she feels anymore she will explode with the thrill and burn of wanting, of having and of imagining. He has finally found something they've both been waiting for. The foundation all their plans can be built on.

* * *

Now here she is, curled up in the bed he slept in as a child. His parents are gone, she enjoys being mistress of such are magnificent house, one which has known such power. Not for several generations to be sure, but it would know it again. She shivered in delight at the thought. Then pressed her hand to her stomach. The shiny new engagement ring glinting on her finger. It is for the benefit of everyone else. They have always known they were engaged, from the first time his hand found hers. A vaguely familiar owl taps at the window, she rose, reached out and untied the parchment attached to its leg and closed the window. Her brow narrowed in confusion, her heart thudding, as she read words.

_He is using Amortentia._


	3. Chapter 3

**III:**

His father had always been a sulker, when Draco Malfoy was mad everyone put up with it for days. When Astoria Malfoy was mad, she blew things up with her wand, and then got over it. Scorpius chose not to be like either of them, anger simmered in him gently, and grew into a dangerous weapon. For him anger was a rare emotion, it took a lot to move him from irritation toward actually anger but if he arrived it was an experience most never forgot.

Her father and mother yelled a lot when they were mad, Rose was glad they thought she had more of her grandfather's temperament. Of course Grandfather Weasley was very peaceable by nature. For Rose it just wasn't productive to show someone how angry you were, it gave them power of you. Instead she explained her displeasure in such pleasant terms the offending person felt horrified and remorseful for months after Rose had completely forgotten the incident.

They met in the hallway, each slightly cautious. As aware of each other's anger as they were of everything else. Someone had dared imply…dared suggest. It couldn't be true.

Rose could feel her heart jumping, straining towards him as it always did. Was it real?

His eyes burned dark grey, slicing through her. What made him so angry?

Scorpius battled his instincts to drag his pale, tired Rose to bed, tuck her in and hold her tightly, never letting go. Was it real?

Her tone as she answers him has him quivering inside. What was she so mad about?

They circle, waiting torturously long days and nights, wondering, hurting and it's Rose who finally breaks. Hurling herself into his arms and begging him to say it's not true. He's never seen her cry, and it cuts him more than anything else, fills him with rage at whoever dared hurt her.

She's furious at her tears but Scorpius is holding her, so tight she can feel her bones creak and they're falling and she's so happy and so angry that she can't do anything to stop them.

There is so much pain she cannot bare to move and for the second time she cannot stop the tears and she is not alone. He cradles her close, as each wracking sob shudders through her body then echoes in her own. Precious moments spiral away, a future rushed off out of reach. But the memory will remain and when the initial pain is gone wrath unseen before wells from deep within.

* * *

And so began the search, other carefully laid down plans, sidelined in pursuit of vengeance. Days passed to weeks, and clues led to dead ends. In a kind of frantic determination, they paused only when Scorpius insists Rose rest. He stays with her, silent, caring. In those moments both knew without a doubt that the scraps of paper where an evil blasphemous lie. Those moments did more than clarify, they drove them on.

Things began to unravel, the hunt became obsession, and obsession became a consuming compulsion that cannot be contained. The façade cracks; concerned family and friends descend, only to be denied access by a disheveled, frantic eyed man, hardly recognizable as Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

There are three vials; Rose pours the first into a shot of Firewhisky and waits for him to return from the bathroom. He talks to her, as she buries impatience, today has always been hard on him. Just thinking of the exquisite irony of the date has her hiding a smile. Pleasure bubbles within as he downs the glass. She watches his eyes widen in realization and horror, he clutches at his throat as she dangles the second vial in front of him, mockingly. He snatches it while his face turns a fascinating shade of reddish purple. She lets him think he outwitted her by grabbing it off her and downing it in one gulp. The choking stops, his eyes glaze over and he slumps down at the table. She pulls out her mirror and holds it near his face; it fogs slightly. Satisfied, she stands, brushing herself off and checking herself in the mirror. Her eyes are bright and hot. She smiles and walks into Scorpius' arms.

"Three or four hours," she says and smiles as strong arms come around her.

"Shall we go? They'll be waiting."

She nods, then leans down and writes four precise neat letters and leaves the scrap of parchment on the table.

_Liar._

* * *

They look as though nothing has happened; both dressed with a simple elegance that outshines everyone else in the room by far. If the crowd of well-wishers and people dying to feed their curiosity bothered either of them it does not show. Neither does the raging fury that lies beneath the surface. A lifetime of scorn and pretence fuelled the simmering hurt and anger from the events of the past months. Rose wants blood. She wants pain. She wants them to pay. Every single one: from her smothering, needy grandmother to her assertive, reckless younger brother.

Her uncle Harry makes his usual speech about the unsung heroes. Rose thinks after more than 21 years of his speeches, they have surely been sung enough but she produces the misty eyes that are expected from females in their family during the Battle of Hogwarts anniversary. Scorpius' arm around her waist is support and comfort. As is the knowledge he is with her in every way. What others see in his eyes as remorse for his family's actions, she can identify as anger to match her own. She makes it through the evening, though there are several moments where she wants to pull out her wand and start shooting Unforgivables till there is no-one left. Finally, they make their farewells.

"It's so good you came." Molly Weasley sniffs, "after all your troubles," She looks pointedly at Rose's stomach before pulling her into a tight hug. Rose manages not to flinch, but it's a struggle to return the embrace that wasn't ending. "Some young people, they just don't understand the importance of these things. They forget what we went through so they could live in peace." Scorpius meets Rose's eyes over her grandmother's back and comes to her rescue, "We really must be going Mrs. Weasley…"

"Molly dear, you're practically my grandson."

Scorpius ignores her, "Rose needs her rest." Patronizingly sympathetic eyes rest once again on Rose's stomach as she is released. "Yes of course, I'm so glad you came, at least some of my grandchildren understand the importance of remembering." An infuriated look is directed at Uncle George that makes Rose very nearly crack. A tiny giggle escapes into Scorpius' chest as he pulls her to him and they Aparate away.

The fire gradually simmers down. Now the culprit has been found and appropriately dealt with, but the damage is done. They know now with blinding clarity. No one can be trusted. No one can understand their connection. No-one can be let in. No-one can know what they do. Rose and Scorpius are above them all.

* * *

Two days after news of the horrific murder of Fred Weasley Junior, prankster extraordinaire, rocked the wizarding world, the gates of Malfoy Manor close permanently, the iron bars along the top curled into the words _Eternal_ _Sanctuary_. And no matter what people try, no matter what resources they used or powerful witches and wizards they recruited, the gates remain shut. The house seems to grow old, gate rusts over, ivy and other climbing vines grow in abundance. A few can see the shadow of what the Manor once was under the disrepair. Once or twice someone claimed to a flutter of curtains at a window. The rumour of a ghost, of haunting, of deadly lover's spats or flights from societies persecution depending on the turn of the tellers mind, began to spread. Before long people forgot that the Manor had been occupied by the living, that it had once been Malfoy Manor. It settles into the local landscape and history and stayes there as The Sanctuary. Though the gate was rusted and the large wall surrounding the Manor was crumbling, not a single could ever manage to break into the grounds.

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**That's the end. Please review :) Hope you all enjoyed.**


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